


The Rocky Way to Love

by Boomchick



Series: Sefikura Week 2021 [5]
Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Boxing & Fisticuffs, Crossdressing, M/M, Minor Violence, Sefikura Week 2021, boxing au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:53:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29078919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boomchick/pseuds/Boomchick
Summary: Sefikura Week Day 5: GlovesCloud Strife's been training as long as he can remember to box with Midgar's best.And sure, maybe he's doing it to get in the ring but Sephiroth, but who wouldn't?Fortunately, he's got a GREAT trainer.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Series: Sefikura Week 2021 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126409
Comments: 13
Kudos: 108
Collections: Sefikura (Sephiroth/Cloud) Week - Yearly Event





	The Rocky Way to Love

**Author's Note:**

> I tell you what-- I REALLY meant for this to be a silly crackfic. But it turns out I REALLY like it!

“Fists up, now.” Jules wasn’t even winded, bouncing easily on the balls of his feet. “We don’t want anyone to break that pretty jawline.”

“Jules,” Cloud groaned, but he lifted his arms. Tucked his chin. Tried to focus on form and not on how much the next punch was going to hurt.

Jules threw a haymaker and Cloud flinched away from it without thought.

But of course. Of course. Jules never threw haymakers for real. They left too many openings. He only ever threw oen when he was—

Jules’s fist slipped straight through the gap Cloud had left between his forearms, and tagged him straight in the mouth.

— corralling someone into eating a jab.

Cloud went down.

“I told you, man, he doesn’t have the muscle mass!” Jay was crowing from nearby.

“Jay!” Scolded Jules. “You’re a referee in this match, not a fan. Don’t you have a job to do here?”

“Sorry, boss!” Jay hopped to it. Dropped by Cloud. It made the whole ring shake.

“One!” He counted.

Up, Cloud told himself and his spinning head. Get up.

“Two!”

Cloud was panting hard, tasting blood. His lip was bleeding a fountain. It could have been worse. He got his elbows under himself.

“Three!”

Not in time.

Blood spattered on the ring. Cloud quickly shifted a hand to cover his mouth, and rolled up to sit so at least he’d be getting bloody instead of the floor.

Jules was much closer than he’d thought, studying him with thoughtful eyes.

“Can you tell me the date?” Jules asked.

“Uh, no.” Cloud said, mumbling around his mouthguard. “Lost track.”

“Mmhmm. Where are you?”

“Break the Jump Gym.”

“Who are you?”

“Cloud Strife.”

“Who am I?”

“My… Coach?”

“Okay, you’re concussed, up you go.”

“What? No. You are my coach.”

“I’m your  _ beautiful _ coach.” Jules teased with a wink, and hefted Cloud to his feet easily. “Also my name is Jules.”

“Right.” Cloud said, looking down at his bloody hand. “I knew that.”

“Of course.” Said Jules, and helped him out of the ring.

* * *

At seven years old, Cloud got in his first fist fight, and came home crying with a broken nose. It never set perfectly, but his mother said it made him look ‘rakishly handsome.’

She also said ‘don’t do it again.’

Cloud only ever listened to half of what his mother said.

* * *

“Word of advice from your coach?”

“My lovely coach?”

“The very same.”

Jules plunked an icepack into Cloud’s hands. Cloud sighed as he pressed it to his lip.

“I think advice is sort of your job, Jules.”

“Oh, job is such an ugly word. We both know we’re a family here. You’re more like a cute nephew than a client.”

“Jules—”

“Fight less like me and more like yourself.” Jules said, hands on his hips as he looked down appraisingly at Cloud. “You’ll never have a frame like mine, but yours will work fine if you use your natural advantages.”

Cloud sighed heavily. Let his eyes drift upwards.

The banner hanging from the gym rafters stared down at him. Sephiroth, fists lifted, black gloves and mask, eyes staring. Impossibly green. THey had to photoshop him for the promo images, right? There was no way an actual person looked like that.

Jules clapped. Loudly. Cloud jumped, making the metal chair he was in clatter against the floor.

“You get lost in his eyes like that in the tournament and you’ll be in trouble.” Jules warned.

“Right,” said Cloud.

As if, he thought. As if I’ll ever get close to him.

He had four months.

* * *

Cloud saw Sephiroth fight on TV the first time when he was twelve and Sephiroth was fifteen. He was in the junior league, cleaning up shop. His bouts never timed out. They rarely made it to round two. They almost never ended with anything but a knockout.

He was undefeated. No matter how hard he got hit, it barely seemed to touch him.

Cloud watched every fight. Taped the ones he could. Went through frame by frame and copied Sephiroth’s movements.

* * *

“Cloud?”

“Busy.” Cloud grunted, eyes fixed dead ahead, trying not to look at Ronnie and see how  _ his _ squats were going.

“You’ll want to pause for this.” Jules said.

Cloud sighed, but surrendered. “You win, I guess.” he muttered to Ronnie, wandering out of the ring towards his coach.

“Gah! A technical win is nothing!” Ronnie bemoaned, lifting his fists to the sky.

“It’s still a win.” Cloud muttered, hopping over the ropes and down to join Jules on the floor.

“Cloud Strife, may I introduce...” Jules lifted a hand, extended it with a flourish. “My brother Andrea.”

If the gym had spot lights they’d have fallen on the man posing by the doorway. His hand at his chin in consideration. He flicked his eyes up and down Cloud and hummed to himself. Strode forward in something between a cat-walk and a prance.

“Um,” Said Cloud as Andrea stalked right towards him. “Hi?”

Andrea didn’t even slow down. Touched fingertips to Cloud’s chest and pushed. Twisted and prowled around him, fingers tracing over his shoulders.

“Um!” Cloud said again, flicking his eyes to Jules.

“Let him work.” Jules laughed.

“Alright.” Andrea said at last, stepping neatly into position in front of Cloud again. He clapped his hands twice just above his left shoulder. “I can teach him.”

“What?” Cloud looked to Jules for help.

“You’re still trying to box like Sephiroth does.” Jules admonished, lifting a finger. “But darling you’ve got to box like a dancer.”

“I don’t dance.” Cloud told him flatly.

“Not yet.” Andrea said, and the delight in his tone sent a shiver up Cloud’s spine.

* * *

“You’re moving to another city.”

“Yes, ma.”

“To box.”

“To  _ compete _ .”

“To get punched in the face!”

“Hopefully to punch  _ other _ people.”

“Cloud, you could do so much more!”

“I’ve got packing to do.”

“Just to meet  _ him? _ ”

Cloud didn’t answer.

* * *

“Point your foot.”

“I’m a boxer.”

“You’re a dancer while you’re here, and if Jules thinks you need to be here, then he’s right.” Andrea said flippantly. “Or do you think you can take Sephiroth down as you are?”

Cloud scowled. He pointed his foot.

“Again.” Andrea said. 

Cloud did it again. Light on his feet when he lept. Landed on his toes. Pointed his foot.

“Better,” Andrea admitted. “Now. About the class fee. You’re willing to work in exchange for these classes, correct?”

“Only way I can afford them.”

“It’s fine by me. Let’s get you fitted for a uniform.”

“A uniform? Like the HoneyBoys? I’m not exactly…” He thought of those tall, slim, stately men. Like them?”

“Oh, honey,” Andrea laughed. “I never said I wanted you to be a  _ honeyboy _ .”

* * *

An hour and a corset later, Cloud was re-evaluating his life choices.

The tips made up for it.

Mostly.

* * *

Qualifiers came. Two months till the finals and a bout against Sephiroth. No need for the untouched champ to compete against every scrub with a penchant for punching.

But rumor had it he was in the VIP observation booth.

Cloud bounced on his toes. One foot to the other, back and forth. Shook his arms out at his sides. Tried to keep warmed up without burning himself out. Let out another shaky breath.

“What are you going to show me today?” Jules asked idly from nearby, a towel slung over his left shoulder.

“What?” Cloud asked, trying not to sound as shaken as he was.

“Is it going to be a small-framed man throwing himself into the ring like a rottweiler and going down like a pinata?” Jules asked, tapping his chin. “Or are you going to show me something new?”

Cloud felt it under his skin. Something that had been building. Between the friendly, cheerful boxing bouts with his training partners and the sharp, fierce, precise dance lessons and—

He thought of pointed toes, and calm faces through pain, and honeybees whose shoes he’d never realized hurt. He thought about the aching alchemy of making motion look effortless.

He let his arms fall loose at his side. Smoothed his bouncing until he barely moved, though he was still jogging in place, shifting his weight, switching legs. Absorbed the motion. Lifted his hands in front of his face, looking over his fists at the concrete wall across from him.

“Something new.” He said. 

He would never match them in sheer strength. He would have to make due with what he had. What he had learned from his dance lessons.

Absolute brutality.

Whatever his opponents were expecting, it wasn’t a man who didn’t care how short he was. Who didn’t mind dodging and dancing away. Who shifted and moved between one blink and the next. Who fainted and followed through like it was part of a pattern no one else could see.

Maybe it was partially that the way he moved, the way he stood, the way he looked— It looked like even if he scored a hit, it would barely sting.

His first five opponents dropped like flies under his gloves.

* * *

“Jules said I could find you here.”

Cloud froze. Shuddered. Took as deep a breath as he could. Vivianne had really cinched him into the corset today. He felt his legs go to goosebumps under the stockings he wore, and he wobbled dangerously on his heels.

He turned slowly. Turned to face the music.

Sunglasses obscured his eyes, but his silver hair—

Cloud, wearing five inch heels, was still shorter than him. He carried it so well it was impossible to tell from the photos that he was so— He was like a wall.

Sephiroth stood close to him, and something in Cloud was screaming  _ punch him in the jaw _ and something else was screaming  _ run! _ But the voice that won was the one that said nothing at all. That just stood there, staring out of a face that he knew was pretty and soft after his carefully applied makeup.

He didn’t even waver in his hold on the tray of empty glasses he was carrying back to the bar from the tables.

“I was watching you.” Sephiroth— THE Sephiroth— said, tilting his head. “I only know one coach who could pull someone out of complete obsolescence into the spotlight that quickly.”

_ And he told you where I was _ , Cloud thought,  _ while I was HERE. Traitor! _

“You’ll be moving on to the finals.” Sephiroth murmured. “I wonder if you can cut it. Do you really think you can cut it?”

_ “When you finally face him, what would you do if someone tried to cut into your dance?” Andrea had asked, his hand sliding down Cloud’s back. _

_ Cloud had narrowed his eyes at himself in the mirror. At his form. Sharper and cleaner than it had ever been. _

_ “Break their kneecaps.” He’d growled. _

It didn’t matter that it was his anxiety trying to cut in. It didn’t matter that Sephiroth was the one doing the pushing. Andrea had trained more than his body. He’d trained his stubbornness.

Cloud felt his eyes narrow on Sephiroth. Took a step closer. Face to face, nearly nose to nose, staring through the sunglasses till he could see him.

“When I win,” he said, soft and fierce— No need to raise his voice. Sephiroth would hear him. “You have to take me on a date.”

He saw green eyes widen behind sunglasses. Saw something wild light on Sephiroth’s face. Watched him smile by millimeters.

“Just as Jules said.” Sephiroth said. No, not said,  _ purred _ . “The sheer fucking  _ gall _ of you.”

Cloud didn’t back down. Stayed right up on him. Sheer gall was right. It had brought him to Midgar. It had put him in the ring. It had put him on  _ top _ of the qualifiers. And now it had brought Sephiroth to him.

He’d take it over massive delts any day.

“Very well.” Sephiroth whispered, leaning in just a touch closer. Cloud could feel his breath on his cheek. “But you will not win.”

“We’ll see.” Cloud replied.

Sephiroth pulled away. Smirked. Glanced Cloud up and down.

Cloud didn’t let himself cringe. He straightened another half-inch. Locked his knees. Lifted his chin. Smooth legs, tight waist, fake breasts, and pigtail hair extensions didn’t change anything. He knew how his arms looked, one still holding the tray of empties and the other braced on his hip. How his shoulders looked. He knew he was a goddamn sculpture wearing a honeybee costume.

When Sephiroth slipped away, the room exploded. Cloud found himself surrounded by his coworkers. By the patrons. Slaps on the back, and words piling all over each other.

Then what he’d said sank in, and Cloud didn’t register anything else for the rest of his shift.

* * *

“A date.”

“Cloud, we’re supposed to be doing strength training today.”

“A  _ date _ Jules!”

“Yes, I heard you. And my brother, and about seventeen other honeybees, honeyboys, and honeys.”

“A  _ DATE _ .”

“And he said?”

Cloud blinked. Took a breath. The banner with Sephiroth’s picture was staring down at him from the gym’s rafters. 

“The sheer fucking gall of me.” He whispered.

“Oh, yes, he  _ did _ like that description.” Jules mused. “But what did he say  _ to you? _ ”

“I…” Cloud blinked. Swallowed. “He said ‘very well.’”

“So he said yes.”

Cloud took a breath. “He might not even—”

“Darling,” Jules interrupted. “Have you given any thought to the fact that he knew to ask me about you?”

“I…” Cloud blinked. “I assumed that you two trained together?”

Jules tossed his head back to laugh, his lipstick perfect and sweet as ever. “Oh, no! He has a private gym.”

“But then…”

“Let’s just say,” Jules lifted a finger to his lips and gave Cloud a wink. “That some boys have to stick together.”

Cloud felt his cheeks flush. Felt his hope swell and fill his chest. Saw in his mind’s eye again the way Sephiroth’s eyes had widened behind his sunglasses.

“Right.” Cloud whispered.

“Right.” Jules replied. “So let’s get you on your feet and make sure you  _ win _ .”

* * *

Cloud ate, drank, and slept boxing. In slow moments at the Honeybee he practiced. Ended up teaching some of the girls the basics. He danced with Andrea before and after his shifts.

“When you’re ready for a boxing break, I’d love to get you on the stage.” Andrea sighed.

Never, thought Cloud, looking at himself in the mirror. All slim lines and lean muscle. With a crooked ‘rakishly handsome’ nose, and his hair wet with sweat. I’ll never want a break.

He jumped rope. He trained against Ronnie. Against Jay. Against Jules. Against himself.

He stood in the ring after hours, and thought about all those videos he’d watched. All those fights. Those first-round knockouts. Sephrioth’s signatures. Sephiroth’s unbeatable footwork. Sephiroth’s perfect form. Sephiroth’s tight elbows, and easy grace, and brutal punches.

He danced around them. He ducked, and weaved. He boxed against those memories, and made openings in his mind, and didn’t know if they were real or not.

The day before the match, he jogged up the steps of the coliseum. Thought of Sephiroth, perfect and calm and blank-faced, always.

He reached the top of the stairs and looked down them again.

He wasn’t even out of breath.

* * *

“Remember,” Jules cautioned. “The people you’ll face before him aren’t here for no reason. Don’t lose sight of the match you’re in daydreaming about the one that’s coming.”

“Right.” Said Cloud.

“And keep that chin high.” Andrea cautioned. “Whatever you do today, know he will be watching you. Give him something to watch.”

Cloud pulled on his athlete jacket. Break the Jump Gym’s logo, a sneaker launching off a railing, had been joined by honeybee insignias on each shoulder.

“Trust me.” Said Cloud. “He’ll have something to watch.”

“That’s my girl.” Andrea praised, and Cloud restrained a shudder.

“Just remember he was mine first.” Jules muttered, shouldering his elder brother. “But today you aren’t either of ours, Cloud. I’ll be there at the ringside, but I know I won’t have to use this towel.”

Cloud nodded. Reached out. Put his hands on their arms. Squeezed, just briefly.

“Thank you. Both of you. I’ll do you proud.”

* * *

He walked into the arena like it was slow motion. Cameras were flashing. He was wearing makeup. Light, of course. But mascara, at least. And a little foundation. No worries about the sweat. Jules knew all the right brands.

It felt like the matches happened in snapshots. The flash of a camera, and a guy twice his size. The flash of a camera, and Cloud leaning just out of range of the leading haymaker. The flash of a camera, and Cloud’s punch buried in the guy’s cheek. The flash of a camera, and Cloud’s arm lifted in the air.

The flash of a camera, and Sephiroth’s eyes, from somewhere, finding him again.

Cloud’s boxing shoes were as gold as his jacket was. He shone under the lights.Sweat and gold.

Jules was there in his corner. He didn’t have to do much but kick back and look pretty. They were unprepared for Cloud. Unprepared for not just his speed, not just for his agility, not just for his quick responses.

They were unprepared for his sheer fucking gall.

* * *

He was fine until he was in the final.

“I can’t do this,” He whispered to Jules backstage, hollow-eyed and shaking.

“Sure you can.” Jules said. “You’ve dropped bigger boys than him today.”

“You know it’s not that.”

“What are you more scared of?” Andrea asked. “Losing or winning?”

Cloud swallowed. Leave it to Andrea.

“I’m just…” Cloud whispered. “I’m no one.”

The brothers snorted. Andrea lifted Cloud’s chin. Looked him over. Pulled out his mascara and applied an extra touch to Cloud’s lashes. Cloud didn’t even flinch.

“Not anymore.” Andrea replied.

“Not after today.” Jules added. “After today, you’ll be Midgar’s Light Heavyweight Champion.”

“Gods know where you hide the weight.” Andrea teased.

Cloud clenched his teeth around the truth. They didn’t need to know about the weights he’d hidden on himself to make sure he qualified in Sephiroth’s weight class.

“Whatever happens,” Andrea was saying. “Remember what you have to do.”

“Win.” Cloud replied.

“No.” Andrea breathed. Slid a hand down Cloud’s arms to grip his bruised knuckles.

_ “Wow him.” _

* * *

Sephiroth was wearing black satin. His coach pulled the robe off his shoulders at the corner. Draped it over the ringside. He didn’t shake hands with Jules. Jules didn’t seem surprised.

Cloud’s heart was hammering. His hands were shaking. No one would be able to tell under the gloves, he told himself.

Under his boxing shorts, the lucky garter Andrea had given him hugged his thigh.

The announcer was talking. Cloud couldn’t hear him over his roaring heartbeat.

Sephiroth took off his sunglasses.

The photos weren’t edited.

Breathe, Cloud told himself, and leashed his breathing like he would before a dance. Don’t ever let the audience see you gasping like a landed fish.

Cloud dropped his shoulders. Straightened. Lifted his chin. Met Sephiroth’s eyes.

The ref was doing his speech. Clean fight. Remember the rules. Back to your corners.

Cloud noticed the omission of ‘touch gloves.’

He held his gloved hand out to Sephiroth anyway. Tilted his head in invitation.

Sephiroth blinked at him just once, and then  _ smiled _ .

He reached out with his own black gloves, and tapped Cloud’s red one lightly.

“Back to your corners.” Said the ref.

And then

The bell.

* * *

Cloud’s ears rang. The noise of the crowd warped.

On the dance floor. In the boxing ring.

Sephiroth stood opposite him. Stood waiting. Poised. At once dancer and boxer. At once partner and opponent.

The ref counted “One.”

Cloud shoved his elbows under himself.

He was up before ‘two.’

The world was quieted and rushed. He could feel blood on his mouth. He didn’t care. He narrowed his eyes. He grinned around his mouth guard.

Sephiroth, poised and suited, sweating and bouncing foot to foot, Sephiroth dancer, Sephiroth fighter, Sephiroth  _ smiled _ .

“Come on!” Cloud roared, all sheer fucking gall and glory, and slammed his fists together.

Jules wasn’t even touching the towel on his shoulder.

Sephiroth closed the distance. Left foot, right, weight shift, pivot. Left jab, right hook, left uppercut, switching into a hook, ready to catch him.

Cloud danced back. Read the motion of his body without looking away from his blazing eyes. The punch had rocked him. Had split his cheek open.

He didn’t care. It had shaken out the last of his nerves. No one had touched him before. Sephiroth had touched him now. Time to return the favor.

Sephiroth feinted a left haymaker.

Cloud pressed forward instead of back. Launched an uppercut from inside his guard. Too close for Sephiroth’s jab to connect with any real force.

It was like punching a lighthouse and seeing it waver. Cloud laughed outright, backing up before he could recover. Watched Sephiroth shake it off. Watched his eyes. The cameras snapped. The two of them circled. The tone of the dance shifted. Not freestyle anymore. A tango. A test. A challenge.

Sephiroth got him hard in the ribs. Cloud matched him with a kidney shot. Sweat dropped in the ring. Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed. Cloud’s shaking was exhaustion. He didn’t even feel it. The tango evolved. Changed. A two step. They couldn’t touch each other. They were in lock-step.

The bell rang. Back to their corners.

Cloud saw it in Sephiroth. The same thing he felt. As they hovered there in the ring after the bell, fists still lifted.

Neither of them wanted to stop.

Cloud forced himself back to Jules in his corner. Drank like he’d never had water before. Shook it out as Jules poured water into his hair. Cooled down his burning body.

“You’ll never last if you keep that up.” Jules warned. “Pace yourself.”

But Cloud knew he couldn’t. He didn’t want to. He wanted to burn out like that. He wanted to dance like this until it killed him. He wanted everything Sephiroth could give him and more.

Jules gave up. Pressed the towel to Cloud’s face. Wiped blood away.

“Break his guard, tiger.”

When Cloud looked up, Sephiroth was already watching him. Practically vibrating. When the bell rang again, there was no hesitation. They clashed in the center of the ring.

* * *

The world came back in by degrees. Warping. Wavering.

“Cloud,”

“Hi Jules.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“UNDEFEATED,” a loudspeaker was howling.

“Two.” Cloud murmured. Trying to piece together the last moments.

Round three. He remembered. Round three, and they were still going, and he had been burning. HIs shoulders, his arms, his legs, his body, burning. And Sephiroth had been looking at him like—

He couldn’t slow down. He couldn’t calm down. He had to rise to the challenge in those eyes. He had to give everything he had and more. He had to.

“MIDGAR, YOUR CHAMPION,”

“What got me?” He mumbled.

“Your sheer fucking gall.” Jules said, patting his chest where he was lying on his back in the ring. “Come on. On your feet.”

Cloud staggered getting up. Wavered where he stood. But kept his feet. The ref gripped his wrist. But he didn’t lift it. Cloud was trying to breathe. Someone had cinched his corset too tight. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath.

“SEPHIROTH!”

He’d lost.

The ref released him, and he thought, for a moment, that he’d drop right there. Then an enormous body was there. Gloved hands gripped his biceps. Strong. Tight. Cloud dragged his eyes up. Found Sephiroth beaming down at him, wild and wired. He had a black eye. His hair was a mess under his helmet. There was blood under his nose.

“Amazing.” Sephiroth breathed, just barely audible over the roaring crowd. Then he gripped Cloud’s wrist. Lifted his hand too, turning to acknowledge the crowd. Exalting his opponent as Cloud had never seen him do before. 

“Amazing.”

And that… That helped the sting.

* * *

“We’re going to have a hard time figuring out how to train around that.” Andrea said backstage, arms crossed, tapping his toe. “Who else are you helplessly in love with that we can throw in the ring to fight you?”

“Don’t tease,” Jules scolded. “He’s still reeling from that straight.”

“Hah.” Cloud said dizzily. “Of course. Of course it was a straight…”

Andrea clicked his tongue. Wrapped Cloud’s jacket around his shoulders.

“You’ll get him next time.” He soothed. “Only two years till the next championship.”

“Jules.” Called a voice from just outside the doorway.

Cloud froze halfway through responding. That voice…

“Not like you to stick around after a fight.” Jules chuckled, walking towards the door.

“I was hoping I could have a word with your fighter.”

Cloud turned to Andrea with a desperate look.

Andrea was way ahead of him. Wiped the tear tracks off his cheeks, gave his hair a short toustle. “Say ‘ah,’” he whispered, flicking open his lipstick and coating his thumb quickly before running it over Cloud’s lips. He nodded, and stepped back. Reached back over and tugged one more lock of Cloud’s hair.

“Sure,” Jules said. “Come on in. Andrea and I can take the gear out to the car.”

“Don’t leave me.” Cloud mouthed.

“Knock him dead, honey.” Andrea whispered in return, and shot him a quick wink.

They left.

Sephiroth entered.

He had a small bandage holding the split on his lip closed, and a clear dose of tiger balm on the bruise high on his cheek. He was dressed again. Cloud felt suddenly bare, with his boxing gear still on and his jacket draped over his shoulders.

Maybe he should have been mad. Or frustrated. Or sad. Maybe he should have barked something macho about ‘next time.’ He didn’t.

“You were amazing.” Cloud said. “Everything I’d seen and more.”

“You took me to three rounds.” Sephiroth replied.

“Shame that’s all I’m taking you for.” Cloud replied, and then immediately cursed his stupid tongue, and the stupid concussion he probably had, and his stupid traitor libido and—

“Oh? Is our deal off, then?” Sephiroth asked.

“What?” Cloud replied numbly.

Sephiroth’s sunglasses were in his hair. Leaving those bright green eyes to pierce straight down into Cloud.

“If you won, I was to take you on a date, right?” Sephiroth asked, crossing his arms. Stepping closer. Not aggressive. Smooth. Like he was testing the waters. “I won. So. Where are you taking me?”

Cloud gaped at him. Swallowed around a suddenly dry mouth. Thanked the gods for Andrea as Sephiroth’s eyes flicked down hungrily to his lips.

“Dinner?” Cloud offered.

“Oh,” Sephiroth purred. “At least.”


End file.
